


V Is For Violet Skies And Chocolate Hobnobs

by mydogwatson



Series: A Baker Street Alphabet [22]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: M/M, New Relationship, Rooftop romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-07
Updated: 2013-11-07
Packaged: 2017-12-31 19:31:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,178
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1035540
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mydogwatson/pseuds/mydogwatson
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A bit of romantic fluff, mainly.  But a significant step forward in a relationship.</p>
            </blockquote>





	V Is For Violet Skies And Chocolate Hobnobs

**Author's Note:**

> In my experience, Dark Chocolate Hobnobs can solve a lot of problems.  
> Although, sadly, even consuming an entire package has never led me to the possibility of sharing a bed with Sherlock. Still, at least I have had the pleasure of eating an entire package of chocolate biscuits!

I don’t believe in anything but myself.  
But then you opened up a door. You  
opened up a door. Now I start to believe  
in something else.  
-Ingrid Michaelson

 

The flat was dark and silent when he arrived there a little later than planned. It had been a long afternoon spent in Lestrade’s office. No one was prepared yet to allow Sherlock to show up at a crime scene, so he was condemned to sitting with Lestrade going through cold cases. [And, really, was it too much to expect anyone from the Yard to understand the evidence when it was dangled right before their empty eyes? Apparently so, because he had to explain everything twice over.] 

Despite the appearance of the flat, Sherlock knew that John was at home, because he had texted to let him know. It was a nice gesture, the kind of thing that John seemed to do naturally, but Sherlock rarely thought of. Still, he was trying to learn, needed to learn, because he wanted to please John, especially after this past week, since they had finally declared their feelings. Finally being the operative word.

Therefore, even though he was still at the Yard, trying to explain the evidence to Lestrade and the idiots who surrounded him, when John’s text arrived, Sherlock took the time to respond.

SEE YOU SOON  
SH

A warm breeze drifting through the flat led him to an open window, then out to the fire escape, and finally to the sight of John sitting on the roof. Sherlock moved carefully to sit beside him.

“Never saw a sky this colour,” John said by way of greeting.

Sherlock hadn’t noticed. Now he looked up and stared at the variegated violet that covered the city. “Interesting,” he said, not missing the faint smile that touched John’s lips. “Very interesting,” he amended.

“Very,” John agreed, still sounding amused.

“So you came out here to look at the sky?” It was a very John kind of thing to do and Sherlock always enjoyed these moments, although he sometimes did not really understand them. John could so often provide him with moments of not understanding and that was really quite good.

“For that, yes. And also to think.”

“Ahh.”

John nodded towards the small paper bag in Sherlock’s hand. “What’s that?”

“Oh.” He’d forgotten his purchase and now felt a bit sheepish over the impulse. “I was passing Tesco and picked these up. I know you like them.”

John took the bag and opened it to pull out the single item inside. “Dark Chocolate Hobnobs. My favorite. Thank you.” He opened the package and removed two biscuits, holding one out to Sherlock. “Share?”

Sherlock nodded, taking the offering. He nibbled at a corner of the biscuit. “One day I was in New York City,” he began, speaking in the soft voice he only seemed to use when talking about his time away. “There was a shop that specialised in imported foodstuffs. In the window they had some Hobnobs like this. I knew they were your favorites, so I bought some.” He was quiet for a moment, lost in thought. Then he cleared his throat. “I only allowed myself one a day. They made me feel…close to home.”

John reached out and took Sherlock’s hand, but didn’t say anything.

Over the past week there had been handholding. Some careful kisses. And just the night before they had engaged in a truly epic [to use John’s phrase] snogfest. They had both been left rather breathless by its end.

They finished the Hobnobs they’d been eating. John was watching the sky again and Sherlock was watching John. “I suppose,” John said, “it must be some kind of astronomical oddity that makes the clouds such a colour.”

“I suppose.” Sherlock’s thumb was rubbing small circles on John’s palm.

“One night,” John mused, “I’d like to watch the stars with you.”

“If you want.” Sherlock rather feared that he would have said the same thing had John suggested they hijack a space shuttle and set off to explore the universe.

John took a breath, held it and then released it slowly, like a man building up to something.

Sherlock felt a sudden lurch inside his chest. Was John having doubts? Worse, was he about to say something dreadful?

//You know, Sherlock, I think maybe this whole thing is a mistake. We should go back to being just friends.//

Or something even more horrid.

//I’ve decided to move out, Sherlock. For the best really.//

But how could he say those things after last night? After the past week? After everything they had said and done since Sherlock’s return?

Sherlock wanted to grip John’s hand so tightly that he could not get away even if he wanted to. But that would be wrong, he knew, so instead he released his hold quickly and edged away.

John glanced at him, a frown appearing. “Sherlock? What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” Sherlock muttered.

Now John looked vaguely disappointed. “Oh. Well, I had something to say, but…maybe this isn’t the right time.”

Sherlock wrapped both arms around his knees, staring down towards the ground. “So was it last night? It was all too much? You’ve changed your mind, haven’t you?”

“Changed my--?” John reached out and pulled on Sherlock’s arm until he had his hand again. He put that hand onto his own chest, right over his heart. “Sherlock, I told you that I love you. That will never change.”

Under his fingers Sherlock could feel the strong beating of a soldier’s heart. He closed his eyes and let that heartbeat fill him, taking residence in all the empty spaces, touching him in ways he didn’t even know he could be touched. “And last night? It was…all right?” He looked at John again.

A grin flashed. “Best snog ever. Didn’t you think?”

Sherlock tried not to flush. “Well, as I have never…snogged before I can make no comparison. But I thought it was rather remarkable.” He frowned. “I have…had sex, John, despite Mycroft’s opinion on the subject. I did not particularly enjoy it. There was never anything like last night.” His hand was still over John’s heart and he liked it there. “So what did you want to say?”

John studied his face for a moment and then looked away. “I thought we might share a bed tonight. If you’re ready.”

Was he ready?

Sherlock thought about it for a moment.  
John took out two more Hobnobs and they each chewed, watching the clouds.

“Yes,” Sherlock said finally. “Last night, especially, I was wishing you were there with me.” He gave a definitive nod. “I think it would be quite good to share a bed with you.”

John leaned over and kissed him carefully. “I think it would be quite good, too. I think it would be a good thing to do for the rest of my life.”

Sherlock sighed.

John was smiling. “So. Hobnobs for dinner and then to bed.”

Sherlock nodded and gestured towards the clouds. “Under a violet sky.”

fini


End file.
